


Hold On

by moonside



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Coming Out, Coming of Age, Feels, First Love, M/M, Sexuality Issues, Underage Drinking, maybe a touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonside/pseuds/moonside
Summary: Noctis pauses, mid-step, just for a moment, and then his fingers slip away, out of Prompto’s.“Noct?” Prompto says, slowly. He always says it, even though Noctis does this every day. Noct frowns, and ducks his head down, and starts walking again.“Sorry, Prom,” Noctis says, quietly, “… it’s just, you know. People can’t see us.”





	Hold On

Sometimes, Noctis wishes he wasn’t the Crown Prince.

 

There’s a whole lot of reasons. There’s the publicity, and the way that everyone is so insincere around him, doting for his attention, for all the wrong reasons. There’s the fact that Noct’s dad is busy, and that Noctis has a fate that he can’t avoid. He doesn’t get to choose what he wants to do with his life, because he’s destined to be king someday.

 

It all comes down to the lack of choice, really, because that’s the stem of most of Noct’s problems.

 

He and Prompto are walking to school. Prompto’s practically living at Noct’s place, by now, only heading home on the occasional weekend that his parents are around, or when Noctis knows someone’s going to be by his apartment. The futon in the spare bedroom is designated for Prompto, in the event that Ignis or someone is around, but when it’s just the two of them? They’ll curl up next to each other in Noct’s bed, limbs tangled and hearts beating in sync.

 

Right now, though, they’re simply walking. It’s a nice day. There’s a gentle breeze. Prompto managed to convince Noctis to get out of bed early enough that they have time to stop at the coffee shop on the way to school to get some freshly baked pastries and coffees. Noct’s sipping his sugary latte and Prompto his coffee, and their fingers are twined as they walk, and the street is blissfully empty, this early.

 

As they turn the block to where the school is located, though, Noctis pauses, mid-step, just for a moment, and then his fingers slip away, out of Prompto’s.

 

“Noct?” Prompto says, slowly. He always says it, even though Noctis does this every day. Noct frowns, and ducks his head down, and starts walking again.

 

“Sorry, Prom,” Noctis says, quietly, “… it’s just, you know. People can’t _see_ us.”

 

They both know, because they’ve had this conversation before. It’s not a secret, and when they were on their very fast damn date (their first official one, at least, because they’d just… _fallen_ into a relationship, over time) Noctis had been upfront about it. Nobody can know. He’s the prince. They have to keep their relationship quiet. Prompto had seemed okay with it, but now…

 

Now, Noctis knows how Prompto’s eyes drift to the couples they walk by in the street, fingers twined, and he sighs, and looks away.

 

\---

 

There’s a cheap movie theatre a few blocks from Noct’s apartment. It’s Friday night, and there’s a new horror flick playing that they both want to see. Noct’s managed to dodge citadel duties, and Prompto’s got the evening off work, so they head to the theatre, on an unofficial, but somewhat official, date.

 

Their shoulders bump as they head into the theatre. Prompto reaches, tentatively, and their fingers brush, but Noct’s hand jerks away, and he looks over his shoulder, gives Prompto a _look,_ one that’s resigned and apologetic. “Sorry, Prom,” he mumbles.

 

Noctis buys the tickets and they get popcorn and candy, and they find an empty row in the back of the theatre. The movie isn’t sold out, luckily, and there’s nobody nearby. Once they’re settled in, and the trailers finish rolling, the lights dim and the credits start.

 

Prompto carefully reaches over for Noct’s hand, the popcorn settled between them. Their hands bump, and there’s a bit of hesitance, but slowly, Noctis relaxes, as Prompto takes his hand. Carefully, slowly, Prompto leans his head in, too, until it’s resting on Noct’s shoulder. Noctis shifts a little, tugging the sleeve of the jacket he has splayed over his lap over their twined fingers, hiding them from view. And yeah, Prompto stiffens just a little at the gesture, but he holds on tight, and Noct doesn’t let go.

 

When the movie ends, later, Noct’s the one to straighten, to gently ease Prompto away from the shoulder he’s leaning on. There’s a moment where their fingers are still twined, their hands still nudged close, and Prompto gives a little squeeze, before Noct’s disentangling, and drawing away.

 

“You coming back to my place?” Noctis asks, casual, trying to brush things off, as he stands up and gathers up their trash, the mostly empty popcorn bucket and empty candy wrappers and sodas.

 

Prompto nods, slowly, but his gaze isn’t on Noctis. He’s watching the young couple a few rows down, a guy and his girlfriend, hand-in-hand as they make their way down the stairs and out of the theatre. Noctis sighs, because he recognizes that wistful expression on Prompto’s face, and he wishes that there was _something_ he could do. But he’s the prince, and… well, crown princes just aren’t gay.

 

\---

 

Noctis knew this was coming. He’d predicted it the second the stupid advertisements started popping up all over school. There’s flyers on all the bulletin boards and it’s been in the official announcements, and everyone’s buzzing with excitement. Dumb girls keep asking Noctis if he’s got a date yet, and Noctis simply shakes his head and apologizes and looks mildly embarrassed, while Prompto hovers at his side, emotion eating away at him.

 

He and Prompto went out for dinner, and Noctis can feel the tension in the air, in the way that Prompto’s pointedly avoiding his gaze. When they sit down at the booth in the restaurant, Prompto reaches across the table, letting his hand rest against its surface. Noctis sighs, and he glances around, and reaches forward, their fingers twining together for just a moment. He pulls away, rapidly, when their server appears. Prompto looks away, and his teeth tug at his tongue ring, a nervous gesture, as Noctis drums his fingers against the side of the table.

 

They order their usual order, and Prompto doesn’t try to reach for Noct’s hand again. When the tip of Noct’s sneaker bumps against Prompto’s leg, under the table, Prompto jerks back, and he pretends to be very interested in the salad he’s eating, even though he’s mostly poking the food around with his fork.

 

So now they’re back at Noct’s place. There’s a movie in the background, but neither of them are really watching it.

 

“… is everything okay?” Noctis asks, finally, taking the bait. He tips his head, and he watches his best friend. They’re both out of their school uniforms. Prompto’s hair is hanging flat around his cheeks. He’s taken to styling it lately, but today, he hadn’t bothered. He’s clicking his tongue piercing again, a quick clack-clack against the back of his teeth that’s driving Noctis insane. One hand fiddles with an earring, and Prompto’s very pointedly looking away.

 

Prompto frowns. The ball of his stud bumps against his teeth again, and the sound makes Noctis shudder.

 

“Fine,” Prompto says, shortly, and he looks down at his lap, where his hands are clasped together. When they’re alone like this, Prompto is normally curled in Noct’s lap, hands all over him. And here, when they’re alone, Noctis is happy to give him free roam to touch, to do whatever he pleases.

 

“… this is about that stupid winter formal, isn’t it?” Noctis says, finally. Prompto doesn’t reply, but he makes a quiet noise, and Noct knows it’s the truth. It is.

 

Noctis tips his head back, and he runs his fingers through his hair. He sighs. They’ve talked about this before, and they always go in circles, because there’s no real solution.

 

“Prom,” Noct’s voice is pleading, “come on, dude. You _know_ if I could take you, I would, it’s jus—“

 

“I know, I _know,_ it’s just you’re the crown prince,” Prompto snaps back, and his eyes burn icy blue into Noct’s when he twists in his seat and gives him another of those _looks._ “Noct, I get it, but how long are you gonna hide from who you are?”

 

Noctis opens his mouth to shoot back that he’s _not_ hiding, but he shuts it again, and looks away, and his cheeks flush bright. Okay. So, he’s hiding. He doesn’t have a choice. The media mostly leaves him alone now, but if word came out that he’s got a _boyfriend,_ it’ll be chaos. It’ll look bad for his dad, for the crown, it’ll… fuck. It will be a disaster.

 

“It’s not about me, Prompto,” Noctis says quietly.

 

“I dunno about that, Noct,” Prompto replies, quickly, and his voice is dark, “cuz it sure as hell isn’t about _me.”_

 

“Don’t start that shit,” Noctis groans. He knows Prompto’s got insecurities in so many ways, about his looks, about the stretch marks that line his hips and his tummy, about his parents never being around, about the fact that he doesn’t have a lot of money, or status like Noctis does. Noctis _knows_ all of this, and he’s always reassured Prompt that it doesn’t matter.

 

“Noctis, this _shit_ matters to me!” Prompto says, and he throws his hands up in the air, climbing up off the couch. He’s halfway to the door when Noct jumps up and warps after him – abuse of magical power – and reaches, frantically, grabbing Prompto by the arm.

 

“Prom, don’t go,” Noctis says, and he’s pleading, reaching for Prompto’s hands and clinging, holding on. “Please, just… you _know_ I can’t tell anyone, but I’ll figure it out, give me time…”

 

Prompto stares for a moment, and then, slowly, he squeezes back, sighing. “… I can’t wait around forever, Noctis. Someday, you’re gonna have to decide.”

 

“I know,” Noctis says, and he does. He _knows._ “Let’s go as best friends, then? An unofficial date?”

 

Prompto knows it’s the best that he’s getting. “Unofficial date then,” he agrees.

 

\---

 

They can’t dance together, but Noctis hates dancing anyway, and Prompto pretends he doesn’t care. They’ve got matching flowers in their suits, and someone’s spiked the punch, so they’ve got liquid courage rushing through their veins.

 

Subtly, Prompto reaches for Noct’s hand, as they stand off to the side of the fancy conference room where the school dance is being held. The lights are dimmed, and everyone’s buzzing with energy, and Noct’s just tipsy enough that he curls his fingers in Prompto’s. He doesn’t know if people notice, but for once, he doesn’t care if they do.

 

They’re still hand in hand, a little later, when they wait for Ignis to pick them up. They’re bailing early on the dance. Noct’s got the sleeves on his fancy dress shirt rolled up, and his tie is loose. Prompto’s got the top few buttons of his shirt undone, and he’s toying with a strand of hair that’s fallen over his face. Prompto’s cheeks are flushed, and Noct’s wobbling a little, debating if he cares enough to lean forward and press a kiss right over those gorgeous freckles.

 

The car pulls up, and the two of them tumble into the backseat, giggling. There’s an after party that someone’s hosting, and multiple people invited the crown prince and his best friend to attend, but Noct just wants to go home.

 

“You’re drunk,” Ignis states, plainly, as Noctis and Prompto get all buckled into the back of the car. Prompto presses his face against Noct’s shoulder, and Noctis leans in, resting his cheek atop of Prompto’s head. Their hands are tangled still, settling in Noct’s lap.

 

“Just a lil’ tipsy,” Prompto says, with a smile. Noctis tips his head to the side, and when he looks up, he sees Ignis watching them in the rear mirror. His smart eyes are definitely taking in the scene, narrowing in on their tangled hands, or the intimate way that they’re pressed close, and there’s a momentary jolt of panic, where Noct is desperate to draw away.

 

He remembers what Prompto said, though. He won’t wait around forever. And he’s been drinking, and right now, at least, it doesn’t seem like the end of the world.

 

Noctis simply squeezes Prompto’s head, and tips his head back in, and breathes in the scent of his best friend’s hair. Prompto smells good, and he feels good, too.

 

“Be careful,” Ignis says, in a low voice, as he lets them out in front of Noct’s apartment building. He’s idling in the ‘no parking’ zone but he still gets out of the car, and he takes Noctis by the shoulder, just for a moment. “Noct, whatever is going on with you two, please, remember some discretion.”

 

The words are sobering. Noctis frowns, and he nods, and when Prompto reaches for his fingers again, they slip through empty air instead, and Noctis takes the lead heading back up to the apartment. There’s worry tugging at his features. When the apartment door clicks shut behind them, and Noctis has Prompto pressed up against the wall, his fingers grope, twining them together as he lifts Prompto’s arms and pins them up against the wall over his head, and he kisses him, hard and fierce and _fast,_ and it’s really just not fair that they have to be _careful._

 

\---

 

They’ve stopped going out on as many dates, because it’s just too _hard._ Noctis feels guilty, all the time, about hiding. He knows it’s eating away at Prompto, and Noct’s afraid that Prompto’s going to get too frustrated, that he’s going to say goodbye once and for all, and Noctis doesn’t know how he’ll handle it.

 

It’s a Friday night. They threw around ideas of the arcade, the diner, a movie… all the usuals. But instead, they’ve got a box of takeout pizza on the coffee table in front of them, and a big, fleece blanket wrapped around them as they stream a movie instead. Noct’s got one arm thrown over Prompto’s shoulders, and the other hand is resting in Prompto’s lap, their fingers twined tight.

 

Ignis and Gladio are at a bar, according to the increasingly ridiculous text messages that keep popping up on Noct’s phone, lighting up the room as it buzzes.

 

“Wish we could’ve gone,” Prompto says, as he tips his head and looks in. There’s a bunch of stupid selfies, and they’re both amused to see Ignis’s cheeks flushed in one photo. His shield and his advisor drunk? It’s a rare occurrence, and Noct knows it’s a celebration of sorts, because there’s been lots of important meetings for poor Ignis to sit in on, and Gladio’s dad has been increasingly tense.

 

They’d been invited, but Ignis’s words are still echoing through Noct’s mind. _Be careful. Be discreet._

“Me too,” Noctis agrees, even though he knows they could still get up and get dressed and call a cab, and meet their friends. They’re not old enough to drink, but that’s not an issue, when you’re a prince and you have older friends, anyway.

 

Noctis makes no effort to get up though, and he squeezes Prompto’s hand instead. When Prompto opens his mouth to protest, Noctis drags their twined hands up to his lips, and presses a slow, gentle, kiss over the back of Prompto’s hand. It’s all doting affection.

 

“I love you,” Noctis says, simply, in a sudden rush. It’s first time he’s said it. “Prompto, I… I know this is _hard,_ but I swear I do. I wanna give you the world, but I can’t, but when it’s just _us,_ you’re everything to me.”

 

Prompto looks away, quickly, but Noctis sees the shine in his eyes. “I love you, Noct,” he replies, quietly, and squeezes their hands, holding on like it’s a lifeline. “I don’t want the world, I just want _you.”_

 

Noctis wishes that was his to give, but he’s the prince, and he’s sworn to the country, and his people, and tied by honor and duty, and they both _know_ it. Here though, behind these walls, where it’s just the two of them wearing sweatpants and loose t-shirts and sprawled together, he’s just Noctis, and he gives Prompto whatever part of him he can.

 

\---

 

Noctis had dinner with his dad tonight.

 

It had been somewhat unexpected. Ignis had picked him and Prompto up at school. Ignis has _known_ for a while, even if he’s never mentioned it, outside of that first awkward little talk. He drops Prompto off at the apartment though, and then continues on to the Citadel to drop Noctis off. It’s a private dinner, just Noct and his dad, and Noctis picks at his food and frowns down at his plate. He just wants to get home, to Prompto.

 

His dad looks older, sicker, and Noct knows it’s been stressful for him lately, and now he’s torn in two places, tugged in all different directions, somewhere between being a loving, doting son, and being the person he _wants_ to be.

 

“You’re quieter than usual, today,” his father says, after they’ve eaten, when they’re sitting in his study with the door closed.

 

Noctis frowns, and he leans forward in his seat, hands clasped over his lap, staring down at the ornate carpet flooring. “Just busy, dad. School’s busy. Why’d you call me here?”

 

His father sighs heavily. He crosses the room slowly – he’s limping now – to the desk, and pours two glasses of fine whiskey, before returning, and offering one of the glasses.

 

Noctis blinks, and accepts it. His dad likes to turn a blind eye to the occasional teenage drinking. He certainly isn’t the type to waste fine alcohol on a young son who isn’t even old enough to properly appreciate it. But his father is sitting down beside him, and Noctis swirls the liquid around in the cup before lifting the glass to his lips, tipping back, and downing half of it in a solid gulp.

 

The fine liquid burns his insides as it goes down, though the taste is surprisingly smooth. It’s empowering, leaves the magic of his line rushing in his veins. Maybe it fills him with liquid courage, like that one night at the dance, when he’d held Prompto’s hand, and the world could fuck off.

 

“I wish you’d talk to me, Noctis,” his father says, slowly, knocking back his own drink. “I feel like I’m losing you sometimes.”

 

Noctis sighs. He’s the crown prince, and he’s sworn to certain things, tied to behaviors that befit the crown. He wishes he had another drink or two, but he doesn’t, and he takes a deep breath.

 

“Dad, I think… I’m not _normal._ I… me and Prompto, I mean. I _like_ him.”

 

His father blinks, and turns, slowly, in his seat.

 

With the hand that isn’t holding his glass, his father reaches out, and places an older, wrinkled hand on top of Noct’s free one.

 

“So _that’s_ it,” his father says, mildly. “And here I thought something was _wrong.”_

 

Noctis blinks. He tips his head, and he frowns, and he chews his lip. He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

 

“You knew?” he says, slowly, quietly, after a moment’s silence.

 

“Suspected,” his father agrees, mildly, “though Ignis dodged my questioning. He’s quite loyal to you. That’s good, as he’s _your_ advisor, but it made things slightly more difficult for me.”

 

Noctis flushes bright. He feels like he should pull his hand away, but his father’s touch is gentle, and Noctis can feel his dad’s eyes working into him, seeing down into what feels like his very soul. It’s confusing, and it’s _kind,_ and it’s everything that’s wrong.

 

“You’re not mad?” he says, slowly. “I… dad, I know I have to keep it a secret, but it’s killing me.”

 

His father shrugs. “Someday, you’ll be king. It’s inevitable, and I know it’s quite cruel. If we’re being frank with each other, Noct, it’s not the fate I would have chosen for myself, either, were I lucky enough to have the choice.”

 

_That_ comes as a bit of a surprise to Noctis, though in retrospect, maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe it’s not so weird or unnatural that this burden isn’t something he wants. Maybe free choice, the option to just _be_ Noctis, the person he wants to be, instead of a Lucis Caelum, is something all his ancestors desire, too.

 

“I’m not telling you to be rash,” his father continues on, “but you aren’t king _yet._ Have some fun, Noctis. Eventually, you’ll have to make a choice, but for now… simply learn who you are. You’re going to need to know, someday. If I didn’t know who I was, I might have gotten lost in the title somewhere along the way.”

 

His dad’s advice is confusing, and Noctis doesn’t know what to think.

 

Later though, when he gets back to the apartment, Prompto’s waiting up for him on the couch. He turns and leans over the back when Noctis comes in, and his grin lights up Noct’s life, chasing some of the exhaustion and the confusion away.

 

“How’d it go?” Prompto asks, cheerfully, as Noctis settles down on the couch.

 

Noctis reaches for Prompto’s hand. “… weird,” he confesses, with an awkward grin. He tips his head to the side, and observes his best friend for a moment. Prompto’s dressed for bed, and he’s warm and content looking. There’s none of the nervous fidgeting, no clack of tongue stud against teeth, no fingers worrying at his earlobe and tugging at the piercings there, either. They’re open and warm and together here, alone, in Noct’s apartment.

 

“I uh,” Noctis says slowly, and despite _knowing_ what he knows, he feels a bit of nerves rising up in him. “I told my dad. About you. Us. About _us.”_

 

Prompto’s breath stills in his throat, and his eyes go wide. “… yeah?” he asks, slowly, in a tiny little voice that’s hopeful and maybe a little disbelieving, too.

 

Noct’s fingers weave tighter with Prompto’s, squeezing, and he nods, drawing strength from the touch. “… yeah,” he says, a bit more certainly. “He knows, Prom. _My dad_ knows.”

 

\---

 

They’re walking to school a few days later, and when they turn the block, the building swimming in to view in front of them, Noctis doesn’t let go. His grip falters a little, out of instinct, but then, Noctis takes a deep breath, and his fingers curl and tighten around his best friend’s again, and they step forward into the world, together, holding on tight.

 

It doesn’t solve their problems. It doesn’t change that Noctis is going to be king, and someday he’ll have to make hard choices, and not all of those choices will involve Prompto. It’ll be a struggle to figure out a way to make a place for Prompto in his life, and Noctis knows it’ll be _hard._ But right now, he knows who he is, and he knows who he wants to become, and he’s holding on tight and he’s not letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> Numi linked me a sad video about holding hands and being unable to come out and we were sad and then she told me "make this Promptis" and I did, and then she clarified "but make them happy" so I did but do I ever make them truly happy? 
> 
> Also, for Promptisweek, because it seemed to fit.


End file.
